


Dyspnea

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Injury, Injury Recovery, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Post-Season/Series 06, Realistic, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dyspena: difficult or labored breathing.It was hard, his lungs moving the wrong way, bulging against his skin. The way anything deeper than light inhales stabbed him until he could only whimper. The way, that no matter how many breaths he took, he still felt breathless and dizzy.(He couldn't catch his breath anymore, but looking at the stump that he made with his bayard, he wasn't sure he wanted to.)





	Dyspnea

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [voltron_sheith_kink_meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/voltron_sheith_kink_meme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Post s6 canon the mark on Keith's face seems to be the only thing remaining from the major battle between him and Shiro's clone, but he got majorly beaten up, crashed heavily into walls, fell from significant heights, went straight into the fight with Lotor to help the others...you get the drift. I want to see the fallout from that where Keith's body - once the last adrenaline fades - faces the consequences of taking such a heavy punishment aka some serious injuries without having a convenient healing pod or Allura's powers at hand. I would love for this scenario to lead into Keith and Shiro moving forward from friends to lovers and getting their much deserved rest.
> 
> Bonus if the Blade of Marmora has to get involved. Double bonus if the paladins slowly realise how close they came to not only losing Shiro but Keith as well.

The dust settled and silence burned hotter than a sun.

It was too soon- words and actions too recent and hot to address.

The air was thick, stagnant with sweat and blood and Keith was _tired._

He throbbed and hurt so deeply it was difficult to tell what was there and what wasn’t. If his vision tilted and blackened from exhaustion or some other ailment. If his chest felt like he was dying from- _Shiro please! -_ or from broken bones.

He didn’t matter, not when his lion was filled with cargo more precious than all the gemstones he knew. Not when the castle was destroyed and the Olkari were awaiting them weeks away. Not when everyone else was just as sore and tired as he was.

(He didn’t need to bother anyone else, if his hands and arms trembled whenever he stood.)

* * *

 

When Keith was in the Garrison, he was required to take basic medical courses. Glorified first aid, where grades were given in direct relation to how well he could bandage a cut. When you were in space, there was nobody to remove your ruptured appendix. If you could identify it ahead of time, then there was a slight chance someone would be around to comfort you as you died.

(Shiro had his appendix removed before Kerberos. A safety precautions.)

He remembered looking at the diagrams of muscles and bones, trying to memorize which one was the ulna and which one was the fibula. Muscles that attached to everything like wads of Paper-Mache, joints _somehow_ working smoothly except for the time he dislocated his shoulder and it _still_ clicked a bit.

In a different life, maybe if he had time he would have been fascinated by it. He would have counted tendons like he counted stars. Known the names of the bones in his fingers like they were the constellations and suns Shiro taught him on the Garrison roof.

He knew that humans were fragile, repairable and fixable but ultimately, something made to be broken.

In war, people never returned the same.

* * *

 

Keith knew that it was bad.

He _knew,_ he could feel it.

The next day when he awoke, laying awkwardly on the ground on an emergency Altean inflating mattress Coran had managed to wrangle in the castle’s last moments, he could feel agony radiating from every joint in his body.

He was barely awake for a dobash before he was slamming his face into the mound of clothing that served as his pillow. Mouth open in a soundless gasping wheeze, too overwhelmed to even scream into a dirty shirt. His mouth was drooling, entire body twitching. His eyes were welling uncomfortably in a way he knew conjured tears.

He could hear the others not too far away, talking quietly with lighter tones of voice. Trying to remain optimistic in the face of chaos.

Keith felt slimy, sweat so thick on his body he resembled a slug. A space slug.

Everything hurt, his breathing hitched into a open mouthed gurgling sob.

No, he _couldn’t_ let them know about his injuries. The others were just as tired as he was. Allura had just been _betrayed,_ and Shiro... Keith couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

He heard Shiro rumble, a low weak chuckle that Keith knew would follow with an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

Something chuffed by his face, exhaling hot air over his ear. Keith groaned, reaching up to swat the wolf away with one hand. His left side ached, something was grinding in his chest.

“Hey! He’s awake!” Lance cheered over on the side.

It was pointless to remain laying, so Keith mentally steadied himself and forced himself to his knees, then to a kneeling position.

They had made a campfire out of a busted circuit board, Pidge the source of the blaze. Tucked under blankets, sharing them around the shoulders and huddling close. Hunk was large enough that Pidge could sit between his legs and fumble with the device in her paws, the blanket sheltering her from the outer brisk air.

Lance had one blanket over his lap, the other end sprawled around Allura’s shoulder who was surprisingly leaning against him. Shiro had a blanket to himself, lying awkwardly over his side in the absence of his arm.

Keith’s stomach twisted, his mouth tasted like bile.

He had _done that._

Lance’s smile slowly faltered, he squinted and tilted his head over the distance. “You okay there?”

_No._ “Yeah,” Keith croaked out, hoarse and lower in volume than he thought. He coughed once, hunkering over as the pain flared and something ground sharply in his chest. “Just sore.”

Shiro flinched away, and Keith felt guilt bloom sharply.

His wolf looked at him, warping through reality across the gap before it landed in a crouch, curling in the available space where Shiro’s one arm once connected to his body. Keith knew first hand his wolf was a space heater in warmth.

“No man,” Lance frowned, shifting and gently folding his side of the blanket over the princess, “something is like, seriously wrong with your face.”

“Ouch,” Pidge mumbled, glancing up with the smallest twist of dry humor, “that was a bit cold.”

“What- no no!” Lance scrambled to his feet, “I didn’t- you know what I meant Hunk!”’

Hunk paused and looked up with wide eyes. “Uh, I’m going to be honest here man, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Lance turned, about to comment to Shiro or Allura. The state of the two was enough to snap his mouth shut. He sat back on the ground without another word, silent until Coran returned from wherever he had gone.

Keith didn’t get up until it was time for them to leave. One hand subtly pressing on his left side, trying to feel the cracks along his ribs where his whole chest felt wrong.

He inhaled out, and exhaled in.

* * *

 

The next time he landed, the black lion nearly tripped with how uncoordinated his arms were. They had been flying for two cycles, vargas upon vargas until Coran finally found a planet with safe water and a sustainable atmosphere.

They landed on a field, under bright sunshine and two moons and everyone piled out except Keith.

His face itched, the burn pulling his skin tight and gross. Vargas under his visor only forced the sweat tighter, peeling it away broke the scabs and bits of pus which oozed out hotly towards his jawline.

Keith groaned weakly, thumping his head backwards against the headrest. His face felt wrong, like every bad sunburn combined into one.

He could faintly hear the tinny voice of someone complaining outside the lion, thumping on its claw and demanding Keith come out. Keith cracked one eye open, spotting Hunk through the screens, and closed it again. He breathed shallowly, entire body pulsing in pain. His legs felt cold, the stinging burn he got after a mountain lake.

_“Keith! Open up! There’s a river not far away and Krolia said you haven’t showered in months!”_

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Keith swallowed dryly, his throat raw and lips cracked. Dehydrated, he knew the signs from the desert. The lights as dim as they were, burned his eyes.

He swore low and long, pausing and listening to it echo. It didn’t help, so with a shaking hand he muted his microphone and screamed it. Slurring into the air as if vulgarity would somehow take away the _pain._

(It didn’t help, it just made his throat feel like it was filled with shrapnel.)

Hunk was still banging on the hull, and Keith stood.

(Why was the world swinging so sharply?)

(Why was- why was the ground _there?_ )

(...how had he gotten there?)

* * *

 

Hunk knew something was wrong the moment the black lion’s eyes flashed and the ramp descended far too quickly for normal.

Hunk wasn’t one to look a gift lion in the mouth, so with a growing sense of urgency he scrambled up the ramp heading towards the cockpit.

He found Keith laying on the ground in an unnatural position that signified unconsciousness. He wasn’t far from the chair, his helmet closer still.

“Oh no.” Hunk muttered to himself, scrambling across the distance and dropping to his knees. His kneecaps flared in pain, but he ignored it.

With two fingers he pressed against Keith’s neck, fumbling around until he found the other’s jugular near the base of his jaw. Up close, the wicked burn looked wet and oozing something foul. It smelled pungent, too close to bile for Hunk’s taste.

“Okay, okay…” Hunk repeated out loud to himself, glancing up at the console and visor nearby. It was unlikely any of the others had their armor on, which meant opening a channel was useless. Keith was the last to come out, everyone had assumed he fell asleep while flying.

_‘Well,’_ Hunk thought to himself desperately, _‘they’re not wrong.’_

“Okay, really hope I don’t hurt you here buddy.” Hunk spoke out loud, mostly for his own benefit. He carefully rolled Keith onto his back, watching for anything abnormal. A pause, then two.

Keith’s chest wasn’t moving right.

“No- no no!” Hunk fretted, diving forward to press his exposed wrist against Keith’s (cold) lips. There was a breath, shallow and irregular.

Did he have a punctured lung? No- he would have been bleeding from his mouth or his breaths would be bloody. Although his breathing was moist, it wasn’t anything unusual.

Something was without question, _wrong._

Hunk’s first instinct was to grab Shiro or Allura, someone with steadier hands who could carry Keith out into the brighter light where Coran could whip out some magic goo to heal everything. That was impossible now, not with Allura staring off into the distance quietly and Shiro wracked with sporadic agony until Pidge fixed the circuitry.

Which left Hunk as the only one to carry his friend out.

“Please just be low blood sugar.” Hunk whined to himself, carefully tugging the younger into his arms in a gentle bridle style. “Your mother is going to _kill me_ if it isn’t!”

* * *

 

It wasn’t.

* * *

 

“Why didn’t you _say anything?”_ Krolia hissed, ears down and eyes bulging with adrenaline. “You- _how?”_

Keith wheezed on the ground, eyes half lidded and clouded. He managed a shrug, closing his eyes again.

Krolia fretted, flipping her blade in her hand before she stormed off. She had proven valuable in supplying the group with slain wildlife, they wouldn’t starve with her in the group.

“Seriously though.” Pidge chimed up, sitting crossed leg near his shoulder. “We don’t have any scanners. Do you know at _all_ what happened? If it’s something we’re prepared for, we may be able to help.”

Keith shook his head ever so slightly, reclined back on the single proper pillow the group had. Lance had hoarded it like a dragon, then instantly gave it up the moment the group recognized how injured the former red paladin was

“‘S nothing.” Keith slurred, voice quiet and winded in the inexplicable way it was.

“You should have told us if you were hurting.” Shiro scolded softly, face pinched in worry. The white hair suited him, now more grey than white with all the grease they had accumulated. “We would have done something.”

“Yeah,” Pidge prodded his face, thankfully on the other side of the burn, “we would have actually cleaned this out instead of turning your cheek into a swamp.”

Keith blinked then blinked again. He could see her poking him, but he didn’t feel it. “S’tp.”

“Nope.” Pidge chirped back, before returning to her tablet and typing away at it.

Keith’s chest felt so bad he ground his teeth together. With an unknown spurt, something tore like tissue and blood drooled from his cheek.

“Keith!” Shiro lunged forward, single hand resting on his neck for his pulse while he looked desperately at Pidge. The stump of his amputated arm twisted in the air, ghosting movements it would never make.

“Are you quiznacking-” Pidge swore, jumping forward to press one hand against his chest. Keith yelped a noise, wispy and animal as he tried to curl against her. His cheek pulsed blood steadily, the gash larger than he thought.

“He bit his cheek.” Pidge spoke out loud in surprise, outright disbelief, “I thought he was, he was _dying_ and he _bit his cheek.”_

Keith’s chest flared in cue, a low moan breaking from his throat. It sounded like a dying animal.

“We have something worse,” Shiro grimaced, face shadowed and pale in all ways, “his heartbeat. It’s irregular, arrhythmic.”

“You serious?” Pidge snapped back rapid fast, expression guarded as she inhaled through her nose loudly. “Great, okay, I’ll grab Lance.”

“What? Why Lance?” Shiro responded more out of surprise than protest.

“He’s CPR certified out of all of us,” Pidge hurriedly explained, feeling other spots along his knee and wrist where his pulse thrummed wrong. “Well, we all know it but he was a lifeguard for years. He’s really good at counting breaths and rescue breathing and knowing our luck I wouldn’t be surprised if he quits.”

They got Lance, exchanged and returned with everyone else. Three blinks later and Keith was surrounded by faces, grim and serious. No joking light, no grins or smiles under the two-moon sky.

“You’re right,” Lance quietly muttered to the group, “his breathing is all wrong. Thirty-two in a minute- it may be a bit off since I don’t have a clock but I tried. His chest is wrong too, it’s backwards.”

“Backwards?” Coran asked sharply, reaching out but not touching where Keith lay limp on the ground.

“Yeah,” Lance nodded towards his chest, “when he inhales his left side goes in, exhales it goes out.”

“Flail chest.” Shiro explained with a blank expression. “Rib cage is separated on the left.”

Hunk swore, nobody commented on the vulgarity.

“What’s with the funky heart rate then?” Lance asked, reaching out to gently tap against Keith’s head, “hey, fearsome leader, you with us?”

Keith tried to flip him off, Lance ignored that.

“Can you look at us really quick? Pupils look fine, I don’t really know much about head injuries honestly, but that burn is looking sick. What’s that even from?”

“Me.” Shiro bluntly stated, eyes flashing towards the severed arm. Lance’s jaw snapped shut and he nodded stonily.

“S’not y’re fault.” Keith slurred back, wrinkling his nose against something that smelled sharply like disinfectant, “weren’t you.”

“Holy shit,” Pidge responded in return, “did you just have a _stroke?”_

_What?_ Keith thought dazedly, uncomprehending.

“You totally just had a stroke or...or…” Pidge frantically rattled off, reaching out to poke his face sharply- he could see the tip of her finger indent his cheek from the corner of his eye, “..or...wait that’s where you _bit_ your cheek and- Keith, _Keith,_ can you feel this?”

“He’s _paralyzed?”_

“Don’t be an idiot, Lance. I think some nerve is severed, I mean... _gah!_ Why couldn’t you be half computer!”

“Yikes,” Coran interjected, carefully taking over and applying something that smelled like mint over the pus leaking burn. “Careful there, I don’t like the bruising on your side.”

Bruising? Keith barely managed to open his eye, peering down at his body. How much time had passed? When had they _taken his clothes off?_

He wasn’t foreign to bruises, but he had never seen so many on his skin. His one side was sharply bruised, the surface looking pitted and rusted like a moldy peach. Something didn’t look right near his hip, the bruising sharper and reminiscent of when he broke his thumb as a child. His side looked odder, bruised in a uniform line along his side, brushing against his sternum like a mountain range.

Nothing was leaking blood; no bones were poking through his skin. The only injury really was the burn on his face, covered with something primitive and minty.

“I don’t like how any of this looks, to be honest.” Coran murmured, low and absentmindedly. The man brushed his fingers over Keith’s exposed shoulder, tracing his clavicle and recognizing where it protruded oddly.

Keith didn’t remember passing out, but when he woke his exposed skin was drawn over with light blue marker. Thin lines, tracing his sides like a semantic. He looked like an abstract painting. The moons were out of line, shifting in an orbit to a different point on the horizon. The sun was low, casting the sky pink and alien.

“-ith?” A rustle, and Pidge was squinting down at him from behind her glasses. The moment she spotted his open eyes, she sat on her haunches and grappled with a marker she had set behind her left ear. “Keith? Hey, you with me?”

Keith groaned low as his sides throbbed, everything hurt; he could only breathe shallowly if he didn’t want to get stabbed.

“You’re awake,” Pidge confirmed, chattering mindlessly as she uncomfortably tugged on his blanket, exposing the disgusting sight of his chest. “I am _really_ sorry, but you’ve been out all day- which is longer than what we’re used to, and we can’t find all the damage because we don’t want to make things worse. I tried mapping it out and marking the breaks but you know, I likely missed something.”

So that was what the marker was, indications to the other where his bones were fractured. Splintered from the normal frame. Outlining the bruising, tracking it to make sure it wasn’t spreading.

“Hey, wake up.” Pidge barked, poking him on his left cheek to jolt him awake. It was cold out, enough to bring goosebumps on his exposed skin.

Pidge noticed, instantly her face softened to concern. “I know, but I need you to work with me here. Coran figures you fell on something pretty hard, that’s why your ribs are all screwed up and your hip too. Did you do any of those freaky ninja kicks? What about your range of motion?”

Keith couldn’t focus, barely able to spot the weirdly shaped clouds through the tunnel vision. Pidge prodded him again, without thinking he gnashed his teeth together with a solid click.

Pidge scrambled backward, clumsily scooting over the grass to get out of biting range. He could hear her talking, saying something in a frantic tone but by then, he was already unconscious again.

* * *

 

Pidge stared numbly, looking at her marker which had been mere moments away from sharpened fangs. She didn’t know Keith had fangs, or rather she hadn’t ever remembered them.

The bruising was bad, looking worse as the sun was setting. The others had been gone vargas, mapping out a cave system that would (for a short while) be their ‘home base.’

(Nobody was saying it out loud, but everyone knew it. Keith wasn’t in good shape. It was a miracle he was able to fly at all.)

They had limited supplies, no healing pods, Allura was too weakened to try any healing herself and all their allies were too far away to send help.

They were on their own.

(As much as Pidge didn’t want to think about it, she didn’t think they’d be leaving the planet with the same number of paladins they landed with.)


End file.
